Archive for October, 2018

Happy All Hallows Day and Eve all! Enjoy costumes, food and whatever else one does on this lovely holiday! Tomorrow is the beginning of November with All Saints Day; November is the ninth month of the Roman calendar, and -in the traditional Irish calendar- the start of Winter. Tomorrow is also the beginning of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) which I will be participating in, as usual, to spur me to write.

In light of that, and seeing no obvious theme to November I will just write about whatever inspires me. I will keep up with the Tuesday magic items and whatever else I can fit. However, if you have any requests, anything you would like to see or any theme you would like me to expand upon, please let me know and I will try to fit it in.

Like this:

It is done, I will be on the next train back to you. I cannot say I will be sad to be leaving the South, it is not welcoming to a man of my temperaments.

When last I wrote, our local agent, Jon Butler, and I were close on the heels of an artefact tied to the men behind the Order of the White Sword. Using the cache of letters of one Augustus Bartholomew as a guide to trace what had become of the ingots of tainted iron, iron rendered from the chains of slaves, but not any slave chains -as if slave chains are not evil enough- but the chains used to transport escaped slaves back for execution. Anything made from the iron would be at best cursed and at worst, a weapon for evil.

The war was a chaotic time, so much of the paperwork and records of the period were lost. This made tracking the iron into difficult task if not impossible. Records in Atlanta where useless but they set us onto a collection of papers in Athens at the University of Georgia library. There a scrap of information indicated that the iron had been shipped to Athens for use by John Gilleland, to cast a double-barreled cannon. Nothing in our research showed that Gilleland, who designed the cannon, knew the source of the metal used but someone was working with or for the Dark insured that it was the iron used.

The cannon and reports on it were not difficult to find. It was our good luck that the cannon was still here in Athens. Silver powder applied surreptitiously to the cannon tarnished instantly. It was truly cursed, the souls of the murdered slaves were still bound into the metal shown by the black green of the silver. Mr. Butler believed that is why the cannon failed so spectacularly when it was tested, the angry spirits would not let it be turned against those that were trying to free them. But someone knew what had been created. Why they did not finish binding the spirits to the cannon, indeed, even who was behind it, we could not discover. Mr. Butler believed he was a Confederate officer who was called away and killed before he could complete the magic. It seemed plausible but I doubt we will never know.Read the rest of this entry ?

These collars are always beautifully made, sometime bejeweled but always of the highest quality materials. They always fit snugly, but comfortably, no matter if they are put around the neck of a person or cat.

Like this:

Voddick finished oiling and cleaning his war axe. “I am so very tired of dealing with the unliving or having to mutilate the corpses of our enemies. Honorable warrior deserve better.”

“You will have to take that up with their ruler, them seem very uncompromising about pursuing the war to the bitter end,” said Gollaon sewing up a tear in his cloak.

“I would be happy to,” said Voddick taking a practice swing. “If we can get through the army of living and unliving guard, through the castle and whatever death traps are waiting there.”

“I suspect we could get our employer to back such a raid.,” mused Gollaon.

“Better than this slog through blood and rotting flesh.”

Scepter of Unending War

This scepter is not a pretty decoration of royalty but a rod of roughly forged iron, said to be iron mined in the underworld and forged with dragon’s fire and quenched in the blood of innocents. However it was made, it contains powerful enchantment and necrourgic magics of the most fell nature.

Like this:

You open the crypt revealing a body decked in valuables, as you reach for them, swirling motes of dust coalesce into the spectral form of a small person. “Halt varlet! Neither those riches not this body is for you! Flee now or taste my blade!” It brandishes a translucent sword to back up its statement.

Like this:

Gollaon took cover behind Voddick’s shield as the arrows rained down, several shattered into white and yellowed fragments. One of the soldiers beside them howled in pain and then feel silent.

“Bastards!” said Gollaon, unlimbering his short sword.

“What foul magic are they using now?” asked Voddick.

“Accused arrows,” said Gollaon. “Those killed by them rise as the unliving.”

“Bastards!”

Accursed Bone Arrow

These arrows are tipped in bone arrow heads and often have bone shafts but they are always light and fragile and must be treated with care. They suck the moisture out of anything they are in contact with so they are best stored in metal containers.

“I do not like how that noble is always there when the cattle are slaughtered,” said Voddick, watching said noble over his mug of ale.

“That is wise,” agreed Gollaon. “I am fairly certain the amulet they wear is a necrourgic item of some power.”

“Now that is even more troubling.”

“Agreed. A willingness to use such power indicates a dangerous thirst for power.”

Medallion of Sanguine Strength

Before they are charged, these medallions are clear glass, usually with a few sigil etched upon them, when charged they become colorful, almost always red, even glowing if the charge is powerful enough.